The ultra fashionable element of the congregation attend Trinity Chapel, or “Up-town Trinity,” in Twenty-fifth street, near Broadway. This is a handsome church, and has a large and wealthy congregation.
Trinity Parish embraces a large part of the city. It includes the following churches, or chapels, as they are called: St. Paul’s, St. John’s, Trinity Chapel, and Trinity Church. It is in charge of a rector, who is a sort of small bishop in this little diocese. He has eight assistants. Each church or chapel has its pastor, who is subject to the supervision of the rector. The Rev. Morgan Dix, D.D., a son of General John A. Dix, is the present rector.
Trinity takes good care of its clergy. The salaries are amply sufficient to insure a comfortable support, and a well-furnished house is provided for each one who has a family. Should a clergyman
become superannuated in the service of the parish, he is liberally maintained during his life; and should he die in his ministry, provision is made for his family.
The wealth of the parish is very great. It is variously stated at from sixty to one hundred millions of dollars. It is chiefly in real estate, the leases of which yield an immense revenue.
The churchyard of Old Trinity covers about two acres of ground. A handsome iron railing separates it from Broadway, and the thick rows of gravestones, all crumbling and stained with age, present a strange contrast to the bustle, vitality, and splendor with which they are surrounded. They stare solemnly down into Wall street, and offer a bitter commentary upon the struggles and anxiety of the money kings.
The place has an air of peace that is pleasant in the midst of so much noise and confusion, and is well worth visiting.
In the churchyard, near the south door of the church, you will see a plain brown-stone slab, bearing this inscription: “The vault of Walter and Robert C. Livingston, sons of Robert Livingston, of the Manor of Livingston.” This is one of the Meccas of the world of science, for the mortal part of Robert Fulton sleeps in the vault below, in sight of the mighty steam fleets which his genius has called into existence. A plain obelisk, near the centre of the southern extremity of the yard, marks the grave of Alexander Hamilton. At the west end of the south side of the church is the sarcophagus of Albert Gallatin, and James Lawrence, the heroic but ill-fated commander of the Chesapeake sleeps close by the south door of the church, his handsome tomb being the most prominent object in that portion of the yard. At the northern extremity of the churchyard, and within a few feet of Broadway, is the splendid “Martyrs’ Monument,” erected to the memory of the patriots of the American Revolution, who died from the effects of British cruelty in the “Old Sugar House” and in the prison ships in Wallabout Bay, the site of the present Brooklyn Navy Yard.
Close to the Broadway railing, and so close that one can almost touch it from the street, is a worn brown-stone slab, bearing but two words, “Charlotte Temple.” It is difficult to find,